


Late Night Blues

by cyberghosts



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Before Johnny's Death, F/M, Hurt and comfort, Johnny comforts reader, M/M, Reader is NOT V, Reader is gender neutral, Reader-Insert, mentions of depression and suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberghosts/pseuds/cyberghosts
Summary: Your gonk friends dragged you to some back alley concert for some band you never heard of, despite repeatedly telling them that you felt like shit. After struggling with suicidal thoughts and depression, you seek solace on the rooftop of the club. Finally, you’re granted peace and a place to think away from the loud music and crowds... That is, until the lead runner of said loud music finds you on the roof and decides it’s his job to check up on you.“No fire escape?”“It was the first thing I looked for. No ladders, either. The stairwell is the only way down.”“Sounds like your lucky day then, stuck with the rock star of the hour on some romantic rooftop overlooking the city.”“Be careful there, with a head that big it’ll only take one strong gust of air for you to float away,” you quickly shot back, turning back around to face the cityscape before you.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Reader, Johnny Silverhand/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 133





	Late Night Blues

**Author's Note:**

> (1) Reader is not V. Gotta specify that.   
> (2) There is graphic mentions of suicidal thoughts and depression. Please do not read if you are easily triggered.  
> (3) This takes place BEFORE Johnny's death. How far before? No idea, but just before. Think of it as just another one of random performances where you just so happen to run into him.  
> (4) Interested in more content like this? My tumblr is mistystarot!

You had made a whole lot of dumb decisions in your life, but allowing your friends to pressure you into going out when you felt like absolute shit had to be one of the worst. You knew it in your heart, in your soul, that you weren’t meant to go out today. Should have just sat your ass at home, in bed and alone, like it was meant to be. At least there you could wallow in your self pity and contemplate the different ways to end it all in peace. 

No, instead you were stuck in some grimy ass bar with some loud band that gave you a ringing headache. Maybe another day you would have liked them, maybe had actually enjoyed a night out. Now though? It was all too much. Too suffocating. 

You had endured a good half hour of the performance before slipping away. No drinking was done on your part but with no way home and not enough money for a taxi, you had to wait for your friends. Knowing it would be another several hours before your friends were ready to call it a night, you sought out refuge. 

The crowd thumped with energy as people danced and head banged along to the band on stage. Samurai— an apparently popular, albeit underground, rock band who played only the dingiest of venues. And God, was this bar a piece of shit. You forced your way past people, full on shoving a man who collided with you aside, till finally you broke free from the crowd. 

You weren’t about to just wait out front like some loser so instead, you snuck into the depths of the bar. Down a dimly lit hall and up a rickety staircase, you found yourself faced with the way up to the roof. The need for air and space propelled you forward, taking the stairs two steps at a time.

The doorway at the top proclaimed ‘staff only’ but you were quick to ignore it, pushing the door open and practically throwing yourself out onto the roof. It was dark, and most importantly— quiet. Or, at least as one could get when being within five miles of a live Samurai performance.

It offered the perfect space to stand and stare, the sky an inky darkness. The city lights were far too bright for any stars to show, but the void of space was more than enough to sooth your anxieties. You thought about it all: how you had to grow a backbone and tell your friends to fuck off sometimes, how you probably should look into getting some professional help.

After a good hour of pathetically beating yourself up, you turned back to the roof door... only to find it had locked behind you. Frustrated, you gave it another hard tug, jiggling the door handle in place. When it didn’t budge you let out a string of curse words— this was just your damn luck.

A quick survey of the roof provided no fire escape, no ladders down, nothing but the option to jump several stories and you were no fool. You may have been suicidal at times but the only thing you’d get from this height was a broken leg or two and unbearable pain. Resigning to deal with the hand you were dealt, you took a seat at the roofs edge and dangled your legs over. At least it was a nice night; not too cold, no chance of rain. Sitting alone with nothing but the moon and the muffled music several floors below you was more relaxing than what you would have thought.

Time escaped you, but eventually the live music came to an end and the DJ took over. Judging by the sound of things, the party wasn’t letting up and it would still be a damn good while before someone would free you from your predicament. At least, that was what you’d thought. 

Instead, the roof door pushed open far earlier than you would have thought. Carefully you twisted around from where you were sat and glanced at the door. With long dark hair, and a pair of dark aviators the intruder was immediately recognizable. It was that guitarist from Samurai— God what was his name again?

“Wait, don’t—”

Before you could stop him though, the door swung closed behind him with a loud clank. There went your chance at freedom. You groaned openly and rolled your eyes dramatically, as the stranger paused to take a long inhale from his freshly lit cigarette.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re one of those fangirls, I was just lookin’ for a quiet place to smoke.”

“The door is busted,” you muttered jackass at him, before going on, “it locked behind you. I’ve been stuck up here for like, two hours now.”

“No fire escape?”

“It was the first thing I looked for. No ladders, either. The stairwell is the only way down.”

“Sounds like your lucky day then, stuck with the rock star of the hour on some romantic rooftop overlooking the city.”

“Be careful there, with a head that big it’ll only take one strong gust of air for you to float away,” you quickly shot back, turning back around to face the cityscape before you.

“Har-fucking-har,” The guitarist (what was his name— Jimmy? Joey?) approached the ledge of the building and looked down, “what are you doin’ up here? Contemplating jumping? Coulda’ least waited till after the show. Saw you run out of the venue as if your damn ears were bleeding.”

“Please, I’m not stupid. A jump this high will only result in me getting carted away in an ambulance with two broken legs. I can’t afford that shit— I don’t have insurance. If I was looking to kill myself I would have been looking for more... promising alternatives.”

“You give that kind of shit a lot of thought?”

You shot him an ‘are you seriously asking look’ and instead, opted to leave his question hanging in the air. After a moment of silence though, you shrugged your shoulder. 

“For the record, my ears weren’t bleeding... I didn’t even realize you would have noticed me leaving. Ya know, blinding stage lights, huge crowd and all.”

“Hard not to notice, you don’t seem like the rock concert time.”

You smiled bitterly, “or in other words, I don’t look like I belong here.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked, carefully easing himself down to sit along the buildings ledge, several feet away from you, “doesn’t seem like you’re in a partying mood.”

“Friends forced me to come. Kept bitching about how I told them to piss off too many times, how I’m growing old and bitter and that this’ll be good for me.”

“Was it? Good for you, I mean. Better than your alternative plans for the night?”

Why did he even care? Based off what little interaction you had with this man, you had a feeling he wasn’t the type of friend to worry over people. He had too much going on and was far too occupied with his busy life to give a shit about some depressed maniac on the roof.

“If you’re asking whether or not I would have killed myself or some shit at home...” You sighed and shook your head, “I’m too much of a coward. I can’t actually go through with it.”

“Come on, that shit isn’t cowardly. Just fuckin’ surviving is enough to show you’re strong as fuck. If you weren’t, you woulda been dead and gone by now. Nah, you’re a fighter. Putting up that good fight that claims too many.” 

He tossed his cigarette off the roof and finally got up. You watched half heartedly, mulling over what he said as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a card and marker, quickly scribbling something onto the surface of it.

“Take this,” he leaned down slightly, handing it to you. Ace of hearts?

Curiously, you took the card and flipped it over. HIs name and number was written in sloppy script over the face of the card.

“What’s this for?”

“I gotta head out, but it’s for you to call up next time you feel at the end of your line, or need someone to talk to. No bullshit, no strings attached.”

At the small gesture, you felt your eyes sting with tears. You were in all of this alone. You couldn’t tell your family or your friends how you truly felt, in fear of coming off as selfish or ‘too much’. They never would have understood anyway. Now all of the sudden you’re being promised support, all from some damn stranger?

Johnny turned and headed towards the stairwell door. Seeing the movement, you scrambled to your feet and shoved the card into your front pants pocket. 

“How do you plan on getting down? Jumping?” 

Johnny snorted at the dark joke and paused once he reached the door. Instead of answering you, he made a big show of reaching into the back pocket of his tight leather pants and... pulled out a fucking key? You squinted at him in the dark.

“What the fuck? You had a key this whole time?” 

“Perks of rocking the shit out of the bar,” he unlocked the door and pulled it open. Loud music flooded the rooftop, echoing in the stairwell as the two of you stood there. “Well? You coming?”

“Oh um, right—”

You followed him back into the building and the two of you started your descent down the stairs in silence. By the time you reached the main floor, you were keen on heading to the front door but stopped when Johnny’s metal hand latched onto your forearm.

“One last thing: tell your gonk ‘friends’ to fuck off.”

You gave him one final bitter smile, before pulling away and heading for the exit. The only place you wanted to be, that you deserved to be, was home right now.


End file.
